5stargirl_faith⭐️

20, Just a girl that loves everything chic and feminine♡ Certified fanfic lover

[devinemist]

how it felt switching from wattpad to tumblr

[xosiren]

FLO

Cry Ugly (2026)

[cocoabutterbunny]

Yes we love desperate tyriq !! I would love to see something where the reader overstimulates him, like he’s gotta tap out type 🤭

— ۶ৎ 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 • 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘲 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

tyriq had a long day and an even longer interview. you just wanted to take care of him. turns out taking care of him means watching him fall apart under your mouth until he has to tap out.

content warnings: smut abt best friends who are too in love to act normal about it. praise kink. dirty talk. tit fucking. nasty oral sex (m receiving); deep throating. messy head. spit + cum swallowing. overstimulation. tyriq whimpersing and tapping out.

word count: 2.5K

— ۶ৎ 𝙩𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙦 𝙭 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

The shower’s still running, and you’re laid on your stomach near the bottom of Tyriq’s bed, staring at the bathroom door like it personally owes you something.

The lanyard you both got from the studio are on his dresser, right next to his silver chain. The recording room’s stale, fake Keurig coffee smell still clings to your sweater, but his bedroom is almost oozing with the smell of his sea salt scented body wash and the smell of whatever all-natural detergent he uses. Steam flows out his bathroom door in thin blobs of smoke, and you’re just waiting on it to stop.

You spent almost two hours behind studio glass watching him lean toward a microphone, manspreading like a whore in that orange sweater that hugged his biceps a bit too well, answering questions in that calm voice he uses when people with press credentials and exposure want him to say something useful. Extra long practices and an extra day of conditioning in his schedule this week had him exhausted by the time the interview started, but he still handled his business. Smiled when he needed to. Dodged the draft question twice. He even ran his thumb across his bottom lip whenever the interviewer repeated himself to ask about his biggest supporter.

And that’s when the idea hit you.

Then the water shuts off and five minutes later, Tyriq’s walking out the bathroom holding a grey towel wrapped around his waist, his other hand rubbing over his buzzed fade. His skin’s still a lil damp. Those broad shoulders look tense and there’s water slipping between the muscles on his chest. He even looks exhausted; poor baby. His eyes are already low and there’s a faint red mark across his nose from the headset they gave him.

His eyes land on you and he finishes drying himself off.

“You been sittin’ there making that face the whole time?” He asks, voice still low. You smile like you’re up to something and have just been caught.

“What face?”

"Like you wanna eat me." He tosses the little towel toward the hamper and misses. "I'm too tired to fight you off, pretty girl." You stand up and hook your fingers into the front of his towel before your nerves decide to make this stupid. “Lay down, Riq.”

His eyebrows go up and he smirks. “Well, damn. Hello to you too.”

“Please.” You whisper, eyes pierced to his. The corner of his mouth lifts, tired and smug. “See, there you go.”

He drops the smaller towel and lets you guide him backward. The mattress dips under his weight, springs giving a quiet complaint as he lays back against the pillows. His knees hang off the edge of the bed, feet planted on the carpet. You step between them.

“I know today took a lot outta you,” you whisper, hands traveling up his warm, muscular thighs. “So let me take care of you.”

Tyriq goes still. The still he gets when he’s focusing real hard, eyes tracking your hands as they reach the knot on his hip. “Take care of me how?”

You pull his towel off and see his dick resting heavy against his thigh, already thickening as you look at it, and the visual sends a pulse low through your stomach. You’ve had him before. You’re beyond familiar with how he feels inside you, but this is different. Kneeling between his legs with every heavy inch laid out in front of you feels indecently intimate, but you want it.

“Like I wanted to during your interview.”

He laughs, and it turns into a rough sounding exhale when you close your hand around him. “You sat behind that glass thinking ‘bout my dick, baby?”

“You kept touching your mouth. It made sense.”

“I was…thinking.”

“Great minds think alike?” You joke.

You wrap your hand around him and the first stroke makes his stomach tighten up. His skin is hot; soft over all that solid weight and he gets harder in your hand with every pass. Tyriq hisses through his teeth. "Shit." His stomach flexes when you drag your palm up slow. "Your hand's soft."

You notice a clear bead of moisture gathering on his tip and get intrigued, swiping your thumb across it, and his knees spread wider.

“Come here, you,” he murmurs.

You lean in expecting instructions; instead his big hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you up for a kiss. His mouth is warm and unhurried, dancing against yours while you stroke him slowly, making his fingers tighten when you do a twisting motion around the head. He kisses you harder, tongue wrestling with yours before he lets you go, pulling your lip between his as he does.

“You sure ‘bout this?” He breathes out, and you nod against his mouth. “Use your words, pretty.”

“I wanna suck your dick. Let me, Tyriq.”

His eyes go wide hearing you, not a speck of exhaustion in them anymore. “Then show me what had you distracted, baby.”

You sink to your knees and try to get comfortable as the carpet scratches gently through your leggings, and Tyriq watches as you bring him toward your mouth. You kiss his tip first then lick it; one careful drag around it, then another, tasting his clean skin and the faint salt of precum. You weren’t expecting him to taste bad, but you definitely weren’t expecting a watery taste either.

Tyriq’s hand settles in your hair without pushing as you keep going; learning what you like first. “Mm.” You let out, licking into the slit, curious.

Tyriq jerks hard enough that his foot comes up off the carpet, along with a startled whimper before he can cover it up, making your clit throb.

Your eyes jump back to his for a second.

“Don’t.” His jaw clenches around a smile he’s tryna hide. “Don’t look proud yet.”

“I think you liked that.” You tell him, grinning.

“I think you should finish what you started.” You can’t tell if it’s the fatigue in his voice or what, but he already sounds like he can’t put up a fight.

You part your lips and take him in; the stretch both catching you off guard and fueling you. He’s thick enough to make your jaw ache almost immediately, his weight firm on your tongue. You start off slow, learning the angle while your hand handles what your mouth can’t fit. This is new but you aren’t naive; you know better than to keep going without your mouth as wet as possible. Your spit gathers fast as you slowly take him deeper and deeper, running over your knuckles as you find a rhythm you like.

“Damn,” he says softly. “Look at you, baby. First time and you already acting hungry.”

The praise runs straight through you. He knows what he’s doing, but you can play unfair too. You hum lightly around him, your thighs pressing together while his dick slides over your tongue. His fingers flex against your scalp, begging to take control.

“Yeah, make that sound again. You moaning like having me in your throat feels good.”

It does; like, embarrassingly good. The wetness of it, the fullness between your lips, his clean taste growing every time he leaks, the quiet

noises of your lips massaging his dick. More than that, you’re getting a front row seat to this fine ass man—your best friend slowly losing his shit one small bit at a time, and you just put a dick in your mouth for the first time ever today. You notice the crease between his brows and his stomach pulling tight again: those long fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself and you feel a rush of something. Power, arrogance, adornment, feral horniness; maybe all of the above.

You pull back for a second just to breathe, mouth glossy with spit.

“Don’t move,” you pant. “I’m not done figuring you out.”

“Who moving?” He sounds almost shocked, and you both laugh.

“Um, you do sir. Every time I lick you right—“ you press your tongue into his slit again; slower, and his hips jump. This time you hear it; the wet shlick of your tongue, right before the tip slips between your lips. He lets out a sound that's part groan, part whimper.

“Right here. It’s sexy, actually.” You plant your hand against his lower stomach and laugh again.

“That ain’t funny,” he mutters, voice fraying. “You keep doing that and this is gonna be real short.”

You sink down further, one hand still at the base and the other on his thigh. His room fills with your gag noises and his low fuck, baby, and every time you bob your head it's a messy, wet sound that you can't hide. You don't wanna hide; you want him to hear exactly what he does to you.

Your tongue dips into his slit again, feeling his dick jump against your lips. Tyriq’s hand catches you by the chin and pulls you up. “Come here. Let me taste.”

The moan you let out disappears into his mouth. He kisses you harder this time, tasting himself without hesitation, thumb rubbing the wet corner of your lips. His other hand spreads across your ass and holds you against him, gripping hard.

“Nasty girl,” he murmurs. “Quiet as hell in that studio, whole time you were thinking about getting on your knees for me.”

“You looked too good.”

“I seen you staring.” He kisses you again, then guides you down with a firm hand between your shoulder blades.

You lean back on your heels and pull your sweater off, no bra underneath. Tyriq’s eyes move like he's studying exactly where he wants to touch you; gaze lingering on the pink barbells decorating your nipples before coming back to your face. You spit once on the head of his dick and it lands warm and glossy, and his nostrils flare as you spread it down his shaft.

“Shiittt,” he drags it out, head falling back. “You been holding out on me baby, fuck.”

You squeeze your breasts together around him and the slickness lets him glide between them with ease, his head appearing near your mouth with each upward stroke. Your nipple piercings drag cold against his skin, warming quickly. You lick him whenever he reaches your lips, teasing his tip until his thighs shake beside your ribs, eyes still on you like he’s hypnotized.

“Look at this greedy shit,” Tyriq says, breathing hard. “Got my dick between those pretty tits and still chasing it with your tongue.”

You moan, mostly because he’s right. Your pussy throbs everytime his hips twitch, and the way he watches you makes your skin burn.

“Riq, don’t move.”

“I’m tryin’, baby.” His voice cracks into another soft whimper when you squeeze tighter. “Fuck, you look too good doing it.”

"Stick your tongue out for me." His voice is rough now. You open your mouth and show him your tongue, accepting his spit and let him thrust shallowly against it while your hand and tits squeeze around him. His breathing goes ragged, short and choppy like he's already close.

You release your breasts and lower your mouth to his balls, warm and heavy against your tongue. You suck one gently, rolling the other in your hand and he jerks.

Tyriq’s hand slaps flat against the comforter. “Oh, you foul.”

You switch sides, fingers massaging as you suck the other one while your other hand glides slow up and down his length. “B-baby, fuck.” His voice climbs, breath catching around the word. “Get back on my dick before you make me embarrass myself.”

“You’re already whimpering for me,” you tell him. “I love it.”

“And you’re rubbing those thighs together like I can’t see you.” Your face gets hot and he gives you a shit-eating grin. “Mhm. Thought so.”

You swallow him again, taking all of him this time. The head pushes into the back of your mouth, and your eyes water, but the noise he makes turns the discomfort into pure heat. You pull back, breathe through your nose, and sink down again while your fingers knead his balls. You’re moving faster now; head bobbing while your hand twists at the base, your mouth making a wet gluck gluck gluck with every stroke. He's panting, whining, his fingers wound tight in your hair.

“J-just like that, baby,” he says. “Keep those pretty lips tight. Fuck, you eating this dick like you missed me.”

You hum and look up at him, and that’s when his control finally cracks. His hips push forward, barely an inch, but enough to overly fill your mouth. You tap his thigh and he freezes baby. “My bad,” he pants. “I’m sorry, baby. Got me losing it.”

You hold his gaze while you move even faster. Saliva dripping down your chin and breasts; wet, sloppy sounds loud in his room, mixed with his breathing and your muffled moans. Pleasure coils between your thighs each time he twitches on your tongue. You want every reaction. Want him helpless with it, just for you.

“Wait.” His fingers tighten in your hair. “I’m close. You gotta decide what you doing.” You answer by taking him deeper. Spitting would simply be counterproductive at this point.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, okay—“ His voice breaks as you moan around him, and you’re rewarded with the feeling of his dick swelling one last time. Tyriq cums with a low grunt, filling your mouth full with his hot, thick release, feel his dick swells over your tongue, then pulses hard, filling your mouth with hot, salty release, his hips stuttering as you take every pulse down your throat. You swallow it down, not letting a single drop go to waste and keep going.

You don’t pull off. His hand loosens in your hair as you suck gently now, tongue circling his oversensitive head. Tyriq jolts as if you shocked him or something.

"Wait." His voice cracks. He pulls your hair gently, a warning. "Baby, wait." You pull back just enough to lick the head soft and slow, right along the slit.

"Nnngh, shit." His whole body shudders and another weak jet spills onto your tongue. You moan immediately, realizing you like this feeling. A raw whimper falls out Tyriq’s mouth and his hand hits his bed twice, quick and unmissable before he grabs your wrist.

“Tap, baby. I—fuck, I can’t.” He catches your shoulder, laughing breathlessly as he finally pulls you off him, staring at you like you just took his soul and rewired his brain all together. “Bring that ass here before you kill me.”

You barely get a breath before he hauls you up his body. His arms lock around your waist, and his mouth crashes on yours, deep and messy, while his spent dick twitches wetly against your stomach.

"You proud of yourself?" He murmurs as his hands slide into your leggings.

You giggle. "A lil bit.”

“Mhm, you earned that, baby.” Tyriq flips you pm your back and hooks one leg over his shoulder. "I’m finna show you just how proud you made me too, pretty girl." Your leggings and panties come smooth off, then his hand slides up the inside of your thigh and he goes quiet, like he's about to spend however long he wants making sure you feel his gratitude.

a/n: my first request 🥹 i hope this is good LOL I wrote it in like 20 minutes and made the gif from a tiktok i had buried deep in my bookmarks. so y’all like desperate whimpering Tyriq? #note #taken

[mzthuggr]

learning to love myself in all phases. life gets ugly, then its somewhat okay, then sometimes its good. im trying to love myself through it all especially thru the ugly

[jussanother]

[lunarexperttrace]

I'm just a girl that loves to eat and can't put the fork down😚

[faiology]

one night only | tyriq withers

you and tyriq withers haven’t seen each other since high school, until you show up at his new movie premiere.

you didn’t think you’d see him again—tyriq withers, the goofy boy who used to walk you take you home after every football game, the one who made you spotify and musi playlists, the one you swore you’d moved on from.

you’re here because your friend begged you to come, said it’d be fun to dress up and pretend to be famous for a night. you didn’t expect him to be the reason your hands start shaking. you knew you were going to see him, but not this close…

he looks… older, sharper. there’s no trace of the goofy high school boy who used to eat hot fries for breakfast. his hair is clean cut now, suit perfectly tailored. but when his eyes catch yours across the room, that same softness flickers back.

“no way,” he mouths, disbelief curling into a smile.

you freeze, clutching your clutch like a lifeline. part of you wants to look away, pretend you didn’t see him, but he’s already moving—through the crowd, past reporters, straight toward you.

he says your name, voice low, almost like he’s afraid to say your name too loud.

you laugh before you can stop yourself. “you still remember me superstar?”

his grin widens, that same crooked one you used to tease him about. “are you kidding? i could never forget you.”

he glances down, then back at you. “you look good,” he says softly. “like, really good.”

for a second, everything fades—the cameras, the crowd, the years between you. it’s just him and you again, standing under those high school bleachers, the night air cool against your skin, the sound of your laughter echoing in the dark.

you smile, tilting your head. “so do you, mr. movie star. congratulations by the way!”

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “nah, stop. you’re gonna make me nervous before the screening.”

“you nervous?” you tease. “since when?”

he leans a little closer, that familiar spark in his eyes. “since about five minutes ago, when i saw you again.”

and suddenly, it feels like maybe the universe isn’t so bad at timing after all.

“still smooth talking i see,” you said with a smile.

“i try,” he shrugs, “stick around after the premiere? i’d love to spend some time with you.”

“if you’re lucky, i might be around.” you joke.

you give him one more glance before his agent whisks him away to shake more hands and meet more people.

he crosses the room and you admire him. the same boy you fell in love with all those years ago, with a grown man’s confidence. it was sexy.

after the premiere, the lobby’s buzzing — publicists, cameras, the smell of champagne and flash powder. you’re trying to sneak out quietly, heels already killing you, when a familiar voice catches you again.

“now i know you weren’t just gonna leave without saying bye?”

you turn. tyriq’s standing there with his tie loosened, jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes still lit up from the night.

you smile, shrugging. “didn’t wanna interrupt the star of the show.”

“oh please,” he laughs.

for a beat, it’s just silence between the two of you.

the city hums around you - traffic, music from the afterparty, people laughing in the distance - but somehow it feels like he's the only thing in focus. he clears his throat.

"can i take you to dinner?" he asks. not cocky, not smooth — just honest. "not a premiere thing, not a celebrity thing. just... me and you catching up. like old times. or... maybe new times."

your chest tightens. you tilt your head, smirking. “is this your way of making sure i don’t escape again?”

he grins, leaning in a little. “maybe. but i’m hoping you’ll say yes anyway.”

you nod. then you slip your fingers into his.

his smile grows, warm enough to fight off the november chill.

"there's a spot a few blocks down," he says. "quiet place. good food. you'll like it."

you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. "you don't even know what i like anymore."

he glances over at you, eyes soft. "then let me relearn."

[ruesdeluxe]

[ruesdeluxe]

[ruesdeluxe]

[lunarexperttrace]

#Quen shitted

[ruesdeluxe]

[ruesdeluxe]

[jussanother]

[eymurn]

In your 20s, you'll feel like you're losing the race. It's important to understand that there is no race.

[mamasturn]

hiii, I saw your post about not getting enough crazy asks LOL. im not really sure what type of crazy you were talking abt but i have 2 and you can just pick one;

Cameron (cade) and reader go on vacation to country of choice and decide to rent a car to go drive around and then something bad happened and they don’t ever talk abt it, but when they come back they get a letter “i know what you have done.” (ikwydls kinda vibes idkk???)

Tyriq and reader are in the phase of their relationship where they find out what their roles are in the bedroom and Tyriq finds out that reader is actually a dom. She is having Tyriq YEARNING AND BEGGINGGG for her. Tyriq is not completely a sub tho, he is a switch !!!

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER | CAMERON CADE

Pairing: Cameron Cade x Black!OC (Aniyah Cade) Summary: It's their anniversary, and they celebrate with the vacation of their dreams. Unfortunately, issues from the mainland follow the Cades wherever they go. Songs: WC: 1018 Warnings: suspense. murder. death. manipulation. possessiveness.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

It was meant to be good. Relaxing. A getaway. The ones advertised on television—the best experience you’ve ever had! The luxury villa with a private outdoor shower perfect for nightly rinses beneath the stars and early-morning rendezvous at the expense of their neighbors’ comfort.

Glorious. It was meant to be glorious.

They should’ve known glory didn’t last long. Not when manufactured by human hands.

It started well. Like they always did. Smiles softened by candlelight. Shared glasses of wine as they sat on the balcony swing in silence. Love, the sweetest love, made on cotton sheets until the early hours of the morning.

And then—the storm rolled in. The wind whipped against the palm leaves and screamed through open windows.

He remembered how quiet it’d been that night. How gentle.

Then the doorknob rattled. The wood barked for his attention.

The chain around his neck swung as he turned. She stood beside him, eyebrows downturned. She said nothing—didn’t have to. He raised a hand—do not move—and approached the door quietly, pads of his feet kissing the floor softly.

An envelope. Signed and sealed. To: The Cades

“Baby, what is that?”

Cameron shook his head. “I don’t—” His index finger undercut the seal. A sheet of paper. No larger than an index card. Still—it felt official. “Shit…”

Aniyah moved toward him. Her hand, heavy from new diamonds, slid across his back. “What is it?”

Nothing. He said nothing. Just tilted his wrist, the paper leaning toward her.

I know. I saw you.

Her breath hitched. His breath stilled.

“Oh.” She trembled. “Oh.”

A branch tapped against the window. He jumped. She squeaked.

Aniyah moved closer. Not consciously. Just closer.

“Know about…” Aniyah couldn’t form a thought. “It?”

It. That day. That night.

When liquor turned to courage and hands morphed into weapons. Deadly. Deadly— weapons.

The bottle slipped from his hand. Didn’t break. Should’ve.

“Let’s talk about this—”

Too late.

Blood. Too much of it. A nose bent wrong. A mouth wider than it should’ve been. A stomach pierced.

It didn’t stop. He didn’t make it stop.

He just…stood there. Chest heaving. Eyes blown wide. Crimson-stained hands. A shard from the glass that didn’t—well, not at first—break, fell by the sole of his heavy boots.

The paper trembled in his hands.

“Baby,” Aniyah said softly. She pulled the paper from his hands and set it on the counter. “We’ll fix it. We will fix it.”

Cameron looked at her with all the worry of a child who’d broken his mother’s antique vase after playing ball in the house—he knew better.

He didn’t do better.

Aniyah turned the paper over. Slid it further across the island. Pressed her lips against his—his eyes fluttered closed; hers stayed open. Then, she ran her finger across his cheek.

“Get some rest,” she murmured. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow.

Her voice was steady. Calm. Disturbingly so. Cameron should’ve questioned it—the way the softness became rugged with one pass of the minute hand around its orbit. The way her eyes darkened like the night sky.

He should’ve questioned it. He didn’t.

“Okay.” Cameron nodded once and stood straighter. , though his shoulders rounded in on themselves. “Gonna shower.”

Aniyah tapped her nails against the counter. “Okay, baby.”

And the half-smile, the wife smile she’d practiced since gold kissed her knuckle and his last name became hers, fell. Gracefully.

The corner of her lips twisted. She made a noise. Quiet. Unimpressed. Annoyed.

Very annoyed.

Because tension and strife couldn’t remain on United States soil, no. It laced up its boots and trudged across continents and swam across oceans until it came knocking at her villa door, like it belonged there.

On an island. Her honeymoon location.

The place where her newfound yet eternal union was meant to be celebrated with bottomless mimosas and early-morning kisses beneath half-slung, covered was interrupted.

She didn’t like that. She wouldn’t stand for that.

Her eyes cut to the electric stove—1:12 AM. She clicked her tongue once and nodded, settled. Sure.

“Baby!” he called many minutes later. “Come watch this with me.”

Aniyah tapped her fingers again and exhaled deeply, her head slung back as she clicked her teeth. “Coming!”

That was hours ago.

Somewhere between Kevin Hart’s jokes that failed to land and one too many slices of pizza, Cameron dozed off. Curled into his pillow like a child whose naivety hadn’t been stripped, and slept.

Hard enough for her to slip out without interruption. Long enough for her absence to remain unnoticed.

She was cunning. In the way that made parents nervous when their child’s motives remained hidden, and their sneaky actions were never unveiled. But the energy> How it shifted, changed in the blink of an eye; that was…everything.

The tell in an otherwise very invisible tale.

So she did what she’d always done.

She fixed it. Rewrote history. Altered reality. Established precedents.

Because that’s what she did.

Protected identities. Salvaged reputations Unleashed vengeance.

All while wearing a precious smile and waving a hand heavy with heavy diamonds.

A fixer. A savior. A protector.

Always.

4:12 AM.

“Where were you?”

Aniyah took off her sandals by the door and shrugged. “Had some stuff to handle. I work in PR, baby. Always a problem to be fixed, no matter the time.” Her fingers moved through her curls, tying them in a stiff bun atop her head.

He caught it then—the streak of crimson on her collarbone like a badge of honor.

Cameron stilled.

She turned her head slowly and smiled. It nearly unsettled him. Nearly.

She moved closer. He exhaled shakily. Her hand was light. Gentle, even. Smelled of disinfectant and baking soda. Her nails traced the scar along his scalp, then fell toward his neck. She cupped his jaw loosely.

Aniyah tilted her head, eyes wild with something he couldn’t quite name. Something animalistic. Destructive.

“You know I’ll always protect you, right?”

Cameron nodded once, sure.

She smiled again. “Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “Good.”

-

Tags: @darkseidex @amirawrah @ga33y3 @ariesthesun @simplementemeencantafutbol @szalipcombo @sheinaskirt @melaninhawtie @unicoo @imperfectlyperfect78 @ariesthesun @blckblossom @fifi-asco @youreadthatright @mauvecherie-writes @imperfectlyperfect78 @uniqueoutlierblog + let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[crimsolyn]

I think the purest form of love is just wanting someone to notice life with you. "taste this. look at that. hear this song." again and again. until you can't imagine noticing life without them.

[flysexypretty]

[flysexypretty]